


One Night in Vegas

by vega_voices



Series: Sleeps with Butterflies [28]
Category: CSI
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-01-31
Updated: 2011-01-31
Packaged: 2017-10-19 18:14:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,208
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/203829
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/vega_voices/pseuds/vega_voices
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>Sara offered him a small smile. “What I miss most is your arms around me at night. Especially after a case like this. I’m used to us being so busy that we don’t catch up to each other until we get into bed. That’s what I miss. And, I did get used to dinners together while I was in Paris.”</i>
</p>
            </blockquote>





	One Night in Vegas

_**Fanfic: One Night in Vegas**_  
 **Title:** One Night in Vegas  
 **Author:** [](http://vegawriters.livejournal.com/profile)[**vegawriters**](http://vegawriters.livejournal.com/)  
 **Fandom:** CSI  
 **Pairing:** Sara/Grissom  
 **Timeframe:** Pre _The Two Mrs. Grissom’s_  
 **Rating:** PG-13  
 **A/N:** This is part of the [Sleeps with Butterflies](http://vega-voices.livejournal.com/tag/sleeps%20with%20butterflies) universe. Deserea's relationship with Grissom is set up in [previous chapters.](http://vega-voices.livejournal.com/tag/sleeps%20with%20butterflies)  
 **Disclaimer:** As always, the characters within belong to CSI and not me. But, if CBS is looking for a writer who is desperate to write some awesome characters, I wouldn't complain.

 **Summary:** _Sara offered him a small smile. “What I miss most is your arms around me at night. Especially after a case like this. I’m used to us being so busy that we don’t catch up to each other until we get into bed. That’s what I miss. And, I did get used to dinners together while I was in Paris.”_

Sara wasn’t sure if she had the headache or the headache had her.

_“Mom! Mom don’t! Don’t!”_

From the roots of her hair to the ends of her toenails, she hurt. She hadn’t slept in what felt like a week and sleep wouldn’t come naturally any time soon. Not with the crime scene she was stepping in to.

_“Daddy!”_

Even showering in pure lemon juice wouldn’t rid her of the smell of blood and body waste that lingered following the homicide she’d been assigned in Henderson. The smell more than lingered on her body, it was memory, one that rose up at the worst moments, leaving the taste of bile in her mouth.

The scene before her was so eerily familiar. The bright lights of the cars. The young cop puking his guts out next to the house. The silent, scared faces of the other techs and police. She’d lived this moment; she’d seen it too many times to count. Biting her lip, Sara stepped into the silent house, knowing what to expect.

The stench of garbage hit her first, followed by the smell of iron in the air. Someone had turned on the living room light, revealing bloody footprints on a stained blue carpet. There was a school photo of a little girl on the mantle, holes in the walls, and the coffee table was littered with unopened mail.

A woman with wild blonde hair and blank green eyes sat in a chair, her hands cuffed behind her. Her thin flannel nightgown covered in blood spatter, her hair matted together, her face a mess of purple and green bruising.

Frozen in time, Sara stared at the woman, seeing not Ella Grant but her own mother.

“Body is upstairs,” she heard Brass next to her but she couldn’t move. Not yet. She knew what she’d find and the dead could wait. There was a little girl hiding somewhere and she needed help.

“We’ll wait for David to get here,” her voice sounded strange to her ears. “I’ll process the rest of the house.” She stared at Ella for a long time, knowing that her priority was with the suspect, but she needed to find the little girl who would be hiding, somewhere. “Did they find the daughter?”

“Not yet.”

Sara nodded and moved to the stairs. Slowly, she took them, one at a time, her eyes scanning the blood trails, the broken plaster, the Barbie doll without a head.

“What’s her name again?”

Brass consulted his notes. “Erin.”

Sara nodded.

Upstairs, the smell of blood was overwhelming. Sara paused, gagging, forcing herself to focus. She wasn’t some rookie. She could handle this. Brass was next to her and she found his presence reassuring. “Did they check the bedrooms?”

“And the attic crawlspace.”

“Trust me, those aren’t the obvious places.” Sara spied the linen closet and walked over. A bloody print on the side of the door told her what she needed to know and she knocked softly. “Erin?” No answer, but a slight shift inside. Sara knelt down and cracked the door.

Inside, curled up in the crawlspace, was a girl no more than ten or eleven. Her wide eyes stood out in her undernourished face. Her cheekbones cast shadows in the dim glow of the flashlight; she was skeletal. Ghostlike. Terrified.

“Erin?” Sara held out a hand, palm up. “My name is Sara. It’s okay now. You don’t have to worry anymore.”

The girl just stared at her, haunted. Sara waited, knowing that eventually, the connection would happen. Slowly, slowly, the girl reached out a hand and Sara took it gently. “You’re okay,” she reassured her. “It’s over now.” Erin shivered and Sara tugged her lightly, wrapping her in her arms. “I’ve got you.”

Erin clung so tightly Sara was sure she’d never let go.

***

  
Sara trudged through the carport door and up the stairs into the main living area of the house. She stopped for a moment, putting her kit where it belonged and her gun and taser in the lock box – the pattern never changed. It was part of what kept her sane.

It took all her energy to kneel down and unlace her boots, but somehow she toed them off and deposited all her clothes, down to her underwear, in the garbage can next to the washing machine. She’d already decided to just throw the entire outfit away, but before she did anything else, she needed a shower and to scrub away the mental image of Erin Price. The social worker had been a godsend, finding a way to connect to the scared girl and get her away from the crime scene, but Erin’s eyes had cried out for Sara, for the connection to the person who had saved her.

Sara had been her once. She knew what the girl was in for. Her first call after her shower would be to social services. She’d pull whatever strings she could to get the girl into a good home.

On the way through the kitchen, a glance at the clock. 9:00 am. She needed to sleep, but work came first. Her other work. The work she wanted to be spending her time doing. The work that funding and backing made difficult. It was so much easier to be a wandering researcher in the movies. She was almost done with the newest grant request and Gil had signed his portion of it and FedExed the papers back to her. Now it was up to her to submit the whole packet to WLVU by 5:00 pm and the last pages and the budget numbers which needed to be updated. As soon as her W-2s had come in, she’d filed the taxes, so she needed to update the forms.

9:00 am. She could possibly sleep for an hour and then get things submitted.

No.

If she did it now, she could sleep, uninterrupted. If she closed her eyes, she’d sleep right through any alarms she set.

With an easy flip of a switch, Sara started the coffee perking, grabbed a bottle of water from the fridge, and climbed the steps to the bathroom. A hot shower, a bag of lemons, and she was scrubbing away the memories of the family that would haunt her dreams.

The hot water washed away the grime. The lemons perked up her tired senses. By the time she stepped out of the shower and wrapped herself in one of the biggest towels she had, Sara had decided two things: she really had left the job for good reasons and she really, really missed Costa Rica. She would also never complain about her life of leisure in Paris ever again. If her husband wanted to keep her in a lifestyle of research and baguettes, who the hell was she to complain?

Clean underwear. A new pair of jeans. A tank top. No bra. Fuzzy socks. Her wet hair loose around her face. She almost felt human again. Almost. The images of the case would linger, she knew, keeping her from feeling completely human.

How the hell had Gil done it for so long?

She settled at the kitchen table with coffee – the idea of breakfast turning her stomach. It would take a while for her appetite to really return. Her laptop powered out of sleep mode quickly, and she smiled at the picture of her husband and their dog playing on the banks of the Seine. What the hell was she doing in the states again?

The pile of grant paperwork reminded her of her purpose.

Requested funds. Personal funds. Other finding sources estimated. Credit history. Current income. Past income. Other income sources. Expense reports from previous project.

Her phone vibrated and she glanced down. She was off for the next three days and was maxed out on overtime so she knew it wasn’t Catherine. Instead, it was from her husband and despite her exhaustion, Sara smiled.

_You home yet? If you are, I can be on Skype._

Glad for the distraction from the mind numbing numbers, Sara opened the video program and found her husband waiting for her. “Hey.” She waved her pen toward the screen. “How are you feeling?”

He sneezed and coughed miserably and her heart went out to him. “Better.”

“Aw, babe.” Sara forgot about the grant for a moment and focused on him. “You have to take care of yourself. The last time you were this sick, you got walking pneumonia ….”

“I just have a nasty head cold and anyway, Hank isn’t letting me out the door.”

“He’s a smart dog.”

Grissom smiled tenderly. “You look exhausted yourself. Rough night?”

For a moment, Sara paused, weighing whether or not to tell him about the case. But he could read her and knowing he’d worry, she shrugged and confessed her worries. “Homicide in Henderson last night … a mother killed her abusive husband. The ten year old daughter saw everything.”

Grissom winced. “Sara … why didn’t you pass it off?”

The tender tone of his voice brought tears to her eyes for the first time since she took the rollout to the case. Wiping at her eyes, she shook her head. “I’m a professional, Gil. Anyway, this isn’t the first case like this I’ve worked.”

“Cases like this are part of why you left in the first place.”

She had to acknowledge his comment but just sipped at her coffee. She wasn’t ready to talk about blood spatter or terrified children or the part of her that screamed and screamed for absolution she would never get. “Really, I am okay. Just tired. I’m going to get the grant request turned in and then sleep.” She rubbed her neck and then leaned back in the chair. “Gil …Nick got in my head the other day.”

“How so?”

“He’s asking the same question everyone else is asking.”

“How we can be married and live like we do?” He shrugged. “I get that question twice a week.”

“Yeah.” She paused. “Sometimes, I ask it.”

“What’s your answer to yourself?”

“That I love you and I love our goals and this is just a bump in the road.”

He smiled. “That’s what I tell people too.”

Sara offered him a small smile. “What I miss most is your arms around me at night. Especially after a case like this. I’m used to us being so busy that we don’t catch up to each other until we get into bed. That’s what I miss. And, I did get used to dinners together while I was in Paris.”

“You were going crazy in Paris. You’re happier since you went back to Vegas.”

“Frightening, isn’t it?”

“It is. Considering.”

She sighed again. “How long until you are done at the Sorbonne?”

“I’m still weighing next semester’s offer. I’d like to be on the same continent as you.”

A slow smile spread across her face. “But you love it in Paris.”

“I love you more. There are a couple of offers at universities around, including UNLV.”

She blinked, but smiled. “I can be a crim anywhere, you know. Harvard is a much more interesting place to teach, I’m sure.”

“You sure about that?”

“Yes,” Sara teased. “I am sure there are crimes in pretty much any city where you would get a job. Honestly, I’m ready to be with you, Gil. I get that we’re doing what we have to do … but I’m tired of … this.”

“Me too.” He smiled softly.

“You buy your plane tickets for the benefit?”

“I emailed you the itinerary.”

“Thank you.” She rubbed her neck. “I’m still terrified of your mother, you know.”

“I’m sorry.”

Sara rolled her eyes, but it was only out of frustration. “Gil, I understand her issues. I’m fifteen years younger than you … I come from a whole different world and mindset …”

“You aren’t Deserae.”

“She adored her.”

“She did.” Gil shrugged and Sara appreciated his honesty. “But I adore you. I always have.”

“Smooth talker.”

He chuckled and touched the screen. Sara did the same. “You’ve got the night when I come in off, right?”

“I should. Why?” Sara smirked.

“If you have to ask that question, you haven’t been paying attention when we are together.”

Sara giggled. “I have to say that my fingers are a poor substitute for you.”

“That’s good to hear.” He paused and stared into her eyes and for a moment, the miles disappeared and they were sitting next to each other. “Sara … I’ve been thinking about what we talked about last time you were here.”

“Gil …” Sara shook her head. “I just think that if we go back and forth so much on the topic, it’s got to be for a reason. I mean, can we really have children while we’re wandering around jungles and living on different continents?”

“So, Matt and Laurie aren’t raising their children right?”

She sighed, thinking of the family they’d bonded with on their last trek through South America. “Gil …”

“You aren’t your mother, Sara.”

“Can we please talk about this when we are face to face so I have the ability to storm away in righteous anger when you make a valid point?”

“You have that ability now. Just shut off the computer.”

“It’s more satisfying when you’re in the room.”

She chuckled dryly. “You know that if I were to get pregnant, your mother would question the parentage.”

“My mother doesn’t hate you that much.”

“She might.”

“I’m scared too, you know. Any child we have has a chance of going deaf.”

“I know.” She sighed. “Let’s put this conversation on hold until you’re here.”

“Fair enough.”

Sara chewed on the end of her pen. “Now that I have you, can we go over the budget numbers together? I’d like to drop this application off and then get some sleep.”

Gil nodded and Sara uncapped her pen. They were more than just husband and wife, they were a research team and right now, they had work to do.

***

  
Sara woke with a start, the blankets tangled around her legs. The dream tickled her senses, a never-quite-forgotten childhood memory being held down by her mother who was determined to cleanse the sin from her daughter. Forgotten laughter when her brother tickled her. Forgotten tears left behind by the sting of her father’s hand. The nightmares were rare, but when they visited, she was left unsettled and jumpy for days afterward.

Trembling, Sara kicked the blankets free and rolled out of bed. One of Gil’s sweaters was on the floor by the bed and she pulled it on, tucking herself into his familiar smell as she made her way down the darkened stairs into the kitchen. A glance at the microwave clock told her it was only ten pm; her body set to the rhythms of night and so now for her it was morning. Time to wake and get through her day. She had so much to do and didn’t want to think about any of it.

The thought of coffee turned her stomach and Sara reached for the tea kettle. Tired eyes watched the gas flame dance around while the water heated, putting her into a trance of spiraling thoughts, all leading back to the conversation about children.

They wanted them, but they didn’t know how to have them. It was why they had a dog. There’d been a pregnancy scare, once, right before Natalie had abducted her. She’d been late, a combination of stress and an infection she didn’t know she had, and despite any and all common sense telling them that her birth control was working, they’d stared at the pregnancy test, terrified. A relationship was easy to keep secret. A baby not so much. And they’d already decided that if she were to get pregnant, they would keep the child. Had she been pregnant, the stress of the desert would have ended that hope, but instead it had been an infection discovered when the doctors could not stabilize her vitals in the hospital.

Separated from Gil like this, she knew how easy it was to slip back into her old patters and dive into her head. Sitting alone in the dark, sipping hot tea and staring at the endless desert nights, it was far too easy to disappear back to her childhood and search for things she could have done differently. It was too easy to sit and contemplate everything that was wrong in her life, rather than focus on what was right. The times she did it anymore were few and far between but they still came and smacked her in the face.

Gil was fifteen years older than she was. Did she want to run any kind of risk of him not being around to see a child grow into an adult? But she wanted a child with his bright blue eyes and his love of life. She wanted to laugh when bugs were brought into the house.

The tea kettle screeched, and Sara jumped, almost burning her hand in the process. Shaking, she poured the hot water over the jasmine tea. Soft steps took her out onto the balcony, where she stared up at the endless Vegas night. In Costa Rica, they’d often slept under tents made only of mosquito netting, enjoying the sounds of the night and the drenching from the clouds. He’d asked her again to marry him one night as the rain fell around them. They’d found a priest two days later.

Her phone buzzed and she reached for it. _Go back to sleep. I love you. See you in a few days._ She laughed out loud.

For so long, they’d danced around the words. Now they couldn’t say them enough. Making up for years and years of heartache and missteps, now it was a reminder not just of their feelings but of their commitment. On their honeymoon, a research free trek around different islands, they’d talked. Really talked. They’d talked about what love meant to them. She knew she didn’t know everything about his past, but he didn’t know everything about hers. They had a lifetime to talk about those things, to keep discovering.

Her fingers flew over the keypad. _I love you too. Get here fast._

She sighed and put her head back and stared at the stars, the images from nightmare slowly fading. In the silence of the night, peace settled around her.

_~fin~_


End file.
